The Trap
by Deliwiel
Summary: Victim or Perpetrator? That was always the question whenever The Machine gave John and Finch a new number. While trying to figure out which their latest number is, John runs into two men. One is an FBI agent; the other is that agent's CI.
1. Chapter 1

_**Ok guys! I'm trying out a few things with this story: first off, it's still very much a WIP, which I usually try not to do. I usually try to have the stories done or mostly done before I post them, but I thought I would give this a shot. Second, I'm going to try to update the story weekly, instead of daily or all at once like I usually do with my stories. Third, this is actually my first attempt at a crossover, so we'll see how it goes...**_

 _ **I've read over it a few times and tried to catch any mistakes, but I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are mine :)**_

 _ **Zoe Morgan does appear in this chapter, but as far as I can tell, she isn't going to be critical to the story. You may see her again if I decide that she can help out, but otherwise this is Zoe's part in this story.**_

 _ **As always, reviews and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome :) If you start to read and find that you don't like the way I'm portraying the characters or you don't like the storyline, you are under no obligation to continue reading.**_

 _ **I own nothing of Person of Interest OR White Collar. If I did, I would NOT have left EITHER of those shows off where they were... :'(**_

"We have a new number, Finch?" Reese asked as he walked into the Library with a cup of coffee.

"Indeed we do, Mr. Reese." Finch rolled away from the computer and stood up, walking over to the glass and taping up a picture. "Bert Rollins; he's an art and antiquities dealer working out of lower Manhattan."

"Anything stick out when you ran a background check?"

Finch shook his head. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. I can't find anything that would make it seem like he's in danger."

"Maybe he's the perp?" Reese asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Nothing in his history suggests any sort of violent background; I doubt he's the one behind whatever is about to happen," Finch pointed out. Reese shrugged.

"Where do I find our 'Mr. Rollins'?"

"He's hosting an event tonight. It's a charity auction, and I have a ticket for you to get in."

"Great. What time is it at?"

"It starts at 8:30. There is a slight catch though, Mr. Reese…"

John stared at his partner, eyebrows raised slightly. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?" The apologetic look in Harold's eyes confirmed that statement. "What is it Harold? What do I have to do?"

 _0-0-0_

"Finch, remind me to pay you back for this after our number is safe," John complained as he fiddled with the mask on his face.

"I dunno, John," Zoe said as she walked up to him. "I think it makes you look rather dashing. Mysterious."

"Thank you again for your help tonight, Ms. Morgan," Finch said over the coms before John was able to reply.

"Anytime. John has a hard enough time being sociable; I couldn't imagine what he would have been like if he had to come alone and try to blend in during a masquerade when he can't actually see anyone's face," she quipped. John's mouth slanted in annoyance at the fixer, but something out of the ordinary caught his eye, making him forget about her last comment.

Two men in suits were just coming into the large ballroom, but unlike every other person there, they were not wearing masks. One was older, probably in his mid-forties; his suit looked like it was more of an everyday work suit, and his eyes had a stern look in them as he surveyed the room.

His companion was a younger man, probably in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. Unlike his older friend, the suit he was sporting was high quality. It was light gray, both the suit coat and the pants, and his tie was a solid dark blue with a silver tie clip. Reese had to admit that the younger man had style, and what looked like very expensive taste in clothing. He had the fleeting thought that if Finch and this man ever met, they would probably have a grand time talking about the different styles of suits and clothing.

"Finch, two men just entered the room. They aren't wearing masks, and they're looking around the place like they're staking it out," John muttered as he turned away from the two newcomers.

"These could be the men that are here for Mr. Rollins. Keep a close eye on them if you are able to, Mr. Reese."

"Copy that, Harold." Reese walked around the edge of the dance floor, eyes rotating between the two men and their number. Rollins was standing in the midst of a large crowd, women all around him.

"Hey," Zoe said as she caught his arm. John looked down at her. "Come on, you stick out when you're just staring at everyone." She led him onto the dance floor.

"Zoe," Reese started to protest, but the music began and his companion started dancing. "If we're going to dance, I'm going to lead," he insisted as he took control of their foxtrot.

"Be my guest," she said with a smile. Her mask was gold and white, with white feathers coming out of the top, adding a dramatic flare to it. As they glided across the dance floor, Zoe gave John and impressed look. "John, I'm surprised. I didn't know you could dance."

"It was something I enjoyed doing while I was younger," he admitted, dipping his partner. "I haven't done it in years though."

"Must be like riding a bike," Zoe commented as she admired the fluidity that the two of them had as they danced. John said nothing in reply, keeping his eye on Bert Rollins.

It seemed their number had noticed the presence of the two unmasked gentlemen standing off to the side. John watched as Rollins motioned one of the servers over. Rollins stepped away from his large group and jerked his head over to the two newcomers, making the waiter glance over. While the server was distracted, John saw Rollins slip something into the remaining two glasses of champagne left on the serving tray. The young waiter looked back and nodded, completely unaware that something had been put in the drinks.

Reese had a bad feeling as he watched the server make his way over to the two men. "Zoe, stay here," he ordered, not waiting for a response as he fought his way off the dance floor. The older man declined the drink offered to him, but the younger man took it, addressing his companion before starting to bring it up to his lips.

John completely lost track of Bert, but he was more concerned for the two men. "Finch, I don't think Bert is the victim here!" he grunted as he lunged for the young man, trying to stop the liquid from entering his mouth.

 _0-0-0_

"Peter, don't you think we should have worn masks too?" Neal asked as the two of them walked in and observed the rest of the crowd. "You know, so we don't stick out as much as we are?"

"No," Peter replied simply but firmly. "If this tip pans out and someone does try to steal one of the pieces here, I'm not going to have a stupid mask getting in my way while I'm slapping handcuffs on someone."

They had gotten a tip earlier that day that there was going to be a theft of a very valuable statue that was being showcased tonight at a masquerade charity event. Burke felt a little wary of the tip, especially since the man who called it in had refused to give them a name. Hughes had insisted they go though, just in case. There had been a string of robberies matching this same MO, and Hughes wanted to catch the responsible party.

Neal shrugged. "Whatever," he said as he eyed one of the women standing nearby. She glanced down shyly and giggled as Neal flashed his charming smile at her. Peter stared at him in annoyance. "What?" the con man asked asked innocently.

"Really? Now?"

"Peter, what better time than the present?"

Burke rolled his eyes and commenced ignoring his CI for the moment, instead choosing to scan the room looking for any suspicious activity. He noticed one man staring at him intently, but after a few seconds, the man turned and walked away, followed by a lovely woman. They made their way to the dance floor, and Peter decided they weren't worth his time. He shifted his focus to the pieces of art that were placed strategically around the room for potential buyers to stop and stare at.

A few moments went by where nothing happened, and all he heard was Neal next to him, chatting with one of the girls nearby. He sighed inwardly. He wanted to be at home right now eating dinner with El, not waiting here for a robbery that might or might not happen.

A server approached him and Neal, offering them each a glass of champagne. Peter declined, but Neal took one of the offered beverages.

"Neal, we're on the clock," Burke reprimanded.

"But I'm not a cop," Neal shot back with a wink. He brought the flute up to his lips and was about to drink from the glass when something collided into him, smashing the drink to the floor. There were shouts and exclamations of terror from the women around them as they ran away. Neal shoved the man away from him.

"What on earth was that?!" he exclaimed, trying and failing to wipe champagne off his suit. Before he answered, the man who had run into Neal turned and grabbed the other glass of champagne from the serving platter. He turned around and faced the two men who were glaring at him, pulling his mask off as he did so. Peter had his hand on his sidearm, ready to pull it out if he needed.

Finally the man spoke. "There is a man over there who poisoned these drinks," he explained quietly, holding up the second glass of champagne. Burke scoffed.

"And you expect us to believe that?"

The man shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes widened and he lunged at Burke. Peter was too slow to pull his firearm, but he realized he would have been shooting at the wrong person as a shot echoed out and pain laced across his arm.

"Peter!" Neal exclaimed, anger about his wet suit now forgotten as he stared at his handler and friend.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," Peter assured the worried man. There were screams and everyone was flooding the exits trying to get out as fast as they could. The man who saved Peter stood up and offered a hand, which Peter accepted after a moment. He was hauled up, grunting as the movement jostled his hurt arm.

"Let me see," the other man said in a quiet voice. Peter hesitated but finally held out his arm. "It just grazed you," he finally said.

"Who are you?" Neal asked, eyes slightly wider than normal.

"Just someone who cares about helping people," the man replied distractedly. He turned around and walked a few paces away, seeming to be talking to someone. Neal strained his ears to listen. "Harold? Bert wasn't the victim, he was the perpetrator. No, everyone's fine for now. He tried to poison their champagne, but when I stopped that, he had a sniper take a shot at one of them." He paused and listened for a minute, but Neal couldn't see a phone anywhere. "Just a graze on his arm." The man turned around and noticed Neal staring at him, making him walk further away to keep his conversation private. Neal wanted to follow him, but he decided against it, wanting to make sure Peter was really okay.

 _0-0-0_

"Mr. Reese, I'm glad everyone is alright, but I should warn you that NYPD is on their way. I let Detectives Fusco and Carter know about it as well, and they're going to try to stay updated on the case, even though there wasn't a homicide. Do you have eyes on Mr. Rollins?"

John looked around, berating himself for letting the man out of his sight. "No. I lost him," he said. Harold could hear the frustration in his voice.

"Then it's a good thing you guys had me around, huh?" Zoe's voice came in over the coms. John's head snapped up.

"Zoe? You have him?"

"Yeah, I followed him when you ditched me on the dance floor," she quipped. "He ran out the back exit as soon as you tackled the second guy to the ground."

"Zoe, be careful, I'm on my way to you right now," John said as he hurried towards the back door. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the street just west of the building," she replied. "He was a little ways ahead of me, but I think I can-" There was a thud and suddenly she was cut off. John stopped dead in his tracks.

"Zoe?" When there was still no reply, he started walking again, faster and faster until it was almost a jog. "Zoe! Finch, talk to me. Where is she?"

"The last place her cell phone places her at was just off 14th and 10," came Harold's reply. He sounded worried as well. John ran towards the intersection as it came into sight.

"Zoe?" He called out, glancing around frantically. He heard a soft moan coming from behind a dumpster at the mouth of an alley. He hurried over and found his friend on her back, just starting to stir. He crouched down, helping her sit up slowly. "Zoe?" John asked in his quiet voice, looking her over.

"I'm fine, I'll be fine," she insisted, waving him off with one hand while massaging her temple with her other. John could see a large bump on her head and noticed even in the poorly lit area that it was starting to go different shades of blue and purple.

"Zoe, what happened?" Reese asked.

"I don't know. I was walking and talking to you when someone hit me over the head with something," she explained. "I lost track of him while I was talking with you; he must have hid somewhere and waited for me to pass before attacking," she mused.

Reese helped Zoe stand slowly, making sure that she was supported even though she kept insisting she was fine. They made it to their car and John helped Zoe into the passenger seat. When he shut the door, she immediately leaned her head back against the headrest. He got in the driver's side and started the car, pulling away from the curb.

"Finch, I'm taking Zoe home," Reese informed the man on the other end of the coms. Zoe's eyes shot open.

"What? No, you can't send me home!" she insisted. John looked at her with skeptical eyes.

"Zoe, there is almost no doubt that you have a concussion. What you need right now is rest," he stated softly. "This is non-negotiable," he added as he saw her open her mouth to argue. She glared at him but didn't say anything else. As they were driving, Finch asked John about the two men from the event.

"The younger guy didn't seem like he was much of a fighter," John explained. "The other one though, he looked like he could hold his own. He had a gun on him at the party, and the way he was carrying himself suggests some sort of law enforcement. If I had to make a guess, I would say FBI." There was the sound of typing on the keyboard as Finch tried pulling records up, and Reese remembered something else. "Oh, and the younger guy had something on his ankle. It looked like a monitoring device," he added.

"Alright, that could help narrow things down," Finch muttered mostly to himself. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Reese."

"Thanks Harold." The call was disconnected and John and Zoe continued their drive in silence.

They pulled up outside Zoe's apartment and John walked with her up the stairs. As the front door was opened, John gently grabbed her arm. She looked up at him, and John could see she was still upset about being sidelined. "Zoe, thank you for all your help tonight," he said with complete sincerity. "I'll stop by soon and see how you're doing," he promised. He turned around to leave.

"John," Zoe called out. He stopped and turned back. "Catch this guy," she urged. John nodded, then turned and walked back to his car.

 _ **Thoughts?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Okay, here is the second chapter. I know I said I was going to try and update weekly, but I'm not patient enough for it. So congrats, if you like the story you'll be getting more soon XD**_

 _ **Also, I read through it a few times trying to find mistakes, but I'm sure I missed some, so I apologize in advance!**_

 _ **Thank for the favorites and reviews, I really appreciate them!**_

 ** _*Checks* Nope. Still aren't mine. *sigh*_**

 _0-0-0_

"Ah, Mr. Reese." Finch greeted as the tall man walked in.

"Morning Finch. Able to find out anything about those two men yet?"

"I was, yes. But first, I should tell you that we got two new numbers early this morning," he informed his partner as he nodded at the glass. John glanced over and saw two familiar faces staring at him.

"Those are the guys from last night, Finch," John confirmed.

"I guessed as much. Your assumption about their connection to the FBI was correct as well," Finch informed John. "The one on the right is Agent Peter Burke; he is part of the White Collar Crime Division of the FBI. The other man is Neal Caffrey. He is a con man and a thief to put it simply. Caffrey seems to be the name most people know him by, though from the small amount of digging I was able to do on him, it seems as though he has several different identities. He was convicted and sentenced to four years in prison on bond forgery charges, but has actually been suspected of hundreds of other forgeries, be it bond or art," Finch explained. "Right before his four years were up though, he escaped prison, only to be apprehended again by Agent Burke, which added four more years to his sentence."

"So what's he doing out of prison?" John asked.

"A few years ago he made a deal with the FBI to be their Confidential Informant and work cases with them in the White Collar Unit for the duration of his sentence. Agent Burke is his handler."

"And now their numbers have come up," John thought out loud. "It's logical to assume that they're in danger from Bert Rollins."

"Indeed," Finch said, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"So who am I supposed to keep an eye on?" John asked. "Rollins or Burke and Caffrey?" Finch thought for a moment before giving his answer.

"Agent Burke and Mr. Caffrey for now. See if you can get them somewhere safe; I'll track down Bert Rollins and let you know where he is. Once the others are safe, then I would suggest you go take care of our perpetrator."

"Sounds like a plan. Where can I find Burke and Caffrey?"

"Agent Burke is currently at the FBI office, while Mr. Caffrey's tracking anklet places him in Central Park."

"I guess I'll be paying Caffrey a visit then," John replied. "It would be easier for Rollins to take him out while he's in the open instead of Burke while he's in a secure government building."

"Agreed. But do be careful, Mr. Reese," Harold implored his friend.

"Always, Finch."

 _0-0-0_

Neal sat on a bench with Mozzie, not really listening to the words coming out of his friend's mouth. Neal had told Mozzie what had happened the night before, and now Mozzie was going off on some rant about how working with the FBI was going to get Neal hurt and that if Neal wanted, he could have new passports and identities ready in a few weeks and they could run.

Neal sat on the bench, hearing his friend's words but not really paying much attention. He had a strange feeling as the two of them sat there; he felt like he was being watched. He turned around on the bench, looking around for any sign of danger. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first, but suddenly he zeroed in on a man standing about a hundred feet away.

"Moz," he hissed, interrupting his friend's rant. "Act normal, but the guy from last night? The one that saved Peter and I?"

"What about him?" Mozzie asked, immediately stopping his rant.

"11 o'clock," Neal muttered. Mozzie casually glanced around, eyes glancing quickly towards the man Neal was pointing out.

"Got him. Salt and pepper hair, nice looking suit?" Mozzie asked in clarification.

"Yeah, that's him. Act natural, but let's get up and see if he follows us. I have a feeling it's not a coincidence that he's here." The two of them stood up and meandered their way out of the park. As they walked, Neal used the reflections from shop windows to confirm that the man from the night before was indeed following him. Neal had to admit the guy was good, but he had had enough practice spotting a tail to know one when he saw it. "Follow me," he told Mozzie, turning down a side street.

As soon as they were out of sight of the man, Neal knew they had little time before he caught up with them. He pulled Mozzie behind a dumpster and they crouched down, waiting for the man to come by.

After more than two minutes had gone by with no sighting of the man in the suit, Neal stood up and glanced around the street. He couldn't see the guy anywhere. He came out from his hiding place, Mozzie close behind. They stepped out onto the main street again, both of them glancing around, trying to locate their mystery man.

"Looking for me?" a quiet voice asked from behind.

 _0-0-0_

John couldn't help but smile as he saw the two men in front of him jump and whirl around as he spoke.

He knew the moment the two of them got up and walked out of the park that he had been made, but he continued following them anyways. Once they ducked down the side street though, he knew that they were waiting for him. John decided that if they were going to meet face-to-face, it was going to be on _his_ terms.

The three of them stared at each other for several long moments. John's hands were in his pockets casually. Caffrey had his arms at his side, though John could tell that he was tense. He had no idea who the third man was, but he stared John in the eyes with confidence. Neal was the first to break the silence.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Like I said last night, I'm just a concerned citizen," John replied with a smile. Neal scoffed slightly.

"And you just happen to run into me again? I know when I'm being followed," Neal added in a slightly accusatory tone. John inclined his head.

"And I know when I've been made. But you should believe me when I say that you and your friend Agent Burke are in danger."

Anger flashed in Neal's eyes. "What do you mean? What happened to Peter?" he asked, his voice dangerously low as he advanced slightly on John. Reese held up his hands peacefully.

"Nothing has happened to him, and I'm not the one who's a threat to you two. I'm trying to help. Peter still at work, so he's safe for the time-being. You on the other hand, out here in the open are much less safe."

"How do you know they're in danger?" the little bald man asked. John stared at him, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"I have a source, and my source is never wrong."

"So you were there protecting us last night?" Neal asked before Mozzie could say anything more. John shook his head.

"No. It's complicated, but I was actually there for someone else, and I'm assuming he's the one who has put you two in danger." John pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of the man he had been following the night before. "His name is Bert Rollins. I saw him slip something into your drinks last night, which was why-"

"Wait," Neal interrupted. John stopped talking, examining at Caffrey with a questioning look. Neal was staring intently at the phone, disbelief in his eyes.

"Do you recognize him?" John probed when the younger man made no other move to speak. Neal nodded.

"His name isn't Bert Rollins, it's Franklin Delooney. Peter and I busted him a few years ago on a forged antiquities charge," Caffrey explained. John nodded in understanding.

"One moment, please," John requested as he turned away from them and called Finch.

"Mr. Reese?" Finch's voice came over the line. "Is everything alright?"

"Bert Rollins is a fake identity, Harold," John said with no preamble. "I talked with Neal and he said that the man's name is actually Franklin Delooney." There was silence on the other end; all John could hear was the furious typing of the keys on the keyboard. "Finch?" John urged after a few moments.

"It would appear Mr. Caffrey is correct. Franklin Delooney was arrested for forging antiquities and selling them for more than triple their worth. He was arrested, but Mr. Caffrey, who was working undercover as a potential buyer, was almost collateral damage. Delooney took him hostage and made his way out of the building only to be taken down by Agent Burke from behind as soon as he exited."

"Thanks Finch," John said, disconnecting the call. He turned back to the con man and his small bald friend. "We need to get you somewhere safe," John said. Neal looked back at his own bespectacled friend.

"Moz?" he asked. His friend seemed to know what he wanted immediately.

"I'll go get Tuesday ready," he assured Caffrey. He pulled Neal to the side, wanting to speak to him in private. "Are you sure you can trust this guy? I mean...he looks like a suit," he commented looking back at John.

"You know I can still hear you?" John asked with humor lining in his voice. 'Moz' didn't look fazed for a second. It was almost like he had wanted John to hear that he wasn't trusted. Reese didn't care; he got that from their numbers all the time. It wasn't his job to be trusted. It was his job to protect innocent people. Neal sighed.

"Moz, he did save both mine and Peter's lives last night," he reminded the bald man. "I can at least see what he has to offer." Caffrey's friend didn't look to happy with the idea, but he finally sighed in resignation.

"Alright. I'll call you when Tuesday is ready." With that, Neal's friend 'Moz' turned around and walked off, constantly looking around him.

"Well he seems...unique," John commented as they watched him disappear from sight. He was going to ask about what 'Tuesday' was, but decided it was probably another story for another time.

"Yeah, but he's a good friend," Neal replied. He turned back to John. "Will you at least tell me your name?"

John hesitated, but only for a moment. "John," he replied simply. Neal grinned.

"That wasn't too hard was it? I would give you my name, but I'm assuming you already know it," Neal said in a light tone. John shrugged, an unapologetic look on his face. Neal looked like he was about to say something else, but his ringing phone interrupted him before he could. He glanced at the Caller ID. "It's Peter." He answered the phone, but after a few seconds his face paled considerably, and he glanced back at John, panic in his eyes. John went rigid. The ex-CIA agent knew in that moment that something was terribly wrong.

 _ **Okay so I know there wasn't a ton of action in this chapter, but I promise it is coming next chapter!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Peter finished his report on the incident from the night before and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. As he stood up, he stretched, feeling the tension in his back ease a little. It had been a long night, and it extended into the morning without any sort of break.

"Hey, Peter," Jones asked as he came up to his boss. "You alright? I heard what happened last night."

Burke nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking."

"Anytime."

Burke's phone started ringing. He didn't recognize the number, and he felt a little uneasy as he answered it. "Burke," he said shortly.

"Agent Burke. How nice to hear your voice again," a slimy voice replied from the other end of the call.

"Who is this?" Peter asked angrily. Jones gave him a questioning look.

"Agent Burke, I'm hurt. You don't remember me?"

"Give me a name, I'm sure I'll remember you once I know who's calling."

"No names yet, Peter, that would be no fun. We'll see each other soon though, I promise. I just have one question for you: Do you know where Neal is?"

Peter's blood ran cold. "What have you done with Neal?" At that, Jones really started to look worried. "Put Neal on the phone now!"

"Sorry Peter, no conversations yet."

"Listen to me, if you hurt Neal, I swear I will hunt you down and make you pay, you son of-"

"Now now, Peter. You wouldn't want me to get upset and do something rash to Neal, would you?" The silence from the FBI agent was the only answer the unidentified caller needed. "I'll be in touch. Ciao!" The line went dead and Peter immediately hurried out the glass doors, going to the elevator.

"Jones, I need you to track this number; find out anything you can about it. Who bought it, where they're at, anything you can get. Let Hughes know what's going on as well."

"Sure thing, but Peter. What _is_ going on?"

"I think someone's kidnapped Neal." Peter got on the elevator, giving Jones one last order before the doors closed. "Track Neal's anklet and see where he is; we haven't been notified of it being cut, so we assume he still has it on and it's still transmitting. Find out anything you can, and get a team together. If you can find where the maniac is, let me know." Jones nodded, and Peter let the elevator doors slide shut.

The elevator reached ground level a few minutes later and Peter walked out. He opened the front doors of the federal building and pulled out his phone, intending to call Neal, but an incoming call from Jones stopped him. "Jones, you have something already?"

"Just Caffrey's location. Peter, his anklet is saying he's at Central Park. Why would he be being held there?"

Peter had been walking down the street, but when he heard Neal's location he stopped. "He wouldn't be held there. Unless…" Peter had the bad feeling that something wasn't right. Neal wouldn't be at Central Park if he were being held captive. That was too open, too public. Peter realized that it was a set up.

He felt a presence before he saw it, whirling around to face his attacker right as a sharp pain entered his stomach. He grunted, grabbing hold of the arm of the person who had just stabbed him. He stared into the eyes of someone who looked very familiar. He heard Jones calling out on the other end of the line.

"Peter? Peter can you hear me? What's going on? Peter!"

Peter gasped in agony as the knife was pulled out of his stomach and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his wound trying to slow the bleeding. He had dropped his phone when he fell, and he saw his attacker bend down and pick it up, disconnecting the call with Jones and running away.

He felt himself going numb as he heard screams to call an ambulance, then he felt gentle hands turning him over and applying pressure to his wound. He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them up again to find Jones in his vision. He could tell Jones was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't focus on or hear anything that was going on. He tried to stay awake, but the blackness beckoning at the edge of his vision finally won the battle for his attention.

 _ **I'm sorry, I know it's short, but more is coming, I promise!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey guys! Sorry the last chapter was so short, and this one is pretty short too. So sorry! Let's see what's gonna happen next!**_

 _ **As always, I own nothing of these two shows. I also am my own beta reader, so any mistakes are mine. I tried to catch any, but *shrug***_

 _ **...**_

Neal answered the phone. "Peter, I was just going to call you. I-"

"I'm sorry, Agent Burke isn't available right now," a cruel voice interrupted. Neal's eyes went wide and John grabbed the phone, putting it on speaker while remaining silent.

"Franklin," Neal hissed. The chuckle that followed sent shivers down Caffrey's spine. "Where is Peter?"

"He's a little preoccupied at the moment," came the snide reply. Neal ground his teeth together.

John walked a short distance away, calling Finch again. "Harold, we have a situation. It would seem that Delooney has Burke. He called Neal on Burke's phone; I need you to trace the phone's location."

"Right away, Mr. Reese," Finch replied. When John said nothing, Finch could practically feel the ex-CIA agent berating himself, and he continued talking. "This is not your fault, John. You couldn't have known that Agent Burke was going to be the first victim. You went with what you thought was the right choice and you can't blame yourself for that."

"Let me know when you find it please," John requested with a tight sounding voice after a few moments. Finch sighed.

"I will."

John stayed on the line, waiting for any news while Neal continued talking to Franklin. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Payback," came the simple reply. "I have Burke, but I need you as well. If you can get to the address I'm about to give you within twenty minutes, Peter remains unharmed for now. But after twenty minutes, every five minutes will result in something happening to poor Peter."

"I want to talk to him," Neal insisted. Franklin chuckled again.

"Sorry, no can do. Remember-twenty minutes, Caffrey." The line went dead, and Neal looked at John helplessly.

"Finch?" Reese urged.

"I've got it," came the hurried reply. Just then, Neal's phone dinged with a text from Peter's number. Caffrey glanced down at it.

"It's an address," he explained, holding the phone out to John.

"Harold, what's the location Agent Burke is being held at?"

Finch started reading off the address and John confirmed that it was the same address that had been sent to Neal's phone.

"We're only a few minutes away from there," John realized.

"Mr. Reese, I am well aware that I will not be able to convince you to wait for the authorities to get there and help, but please be careful! This sounds like a formidable man. Everything seems to be planned and thought out."

"I'll be careful Harold," John promised. "I'll keep you updated if I can," he added before he disconnected the call. Without saying anything else, the con man and the ex-CIA agent hurried off towards the address they had been given.

 _0-0-0_

John slowed to a stop, forcing Neal to stop as well as they neared the old building. "It definitely looks like a place to hold someone hostage," Neal commented. "So what's the plan when we get in there?"

John had been thinking about that very question almost the entire way over. He had a few plans, but he didn't like at least one aspect in each of them. "I think the best thing we can do is have you go in first. I'll come in after you, but I'll stick to the shadows so that he doesn't see me. I'll keep you in my sights at all times, and if I think something is going to happen, I'm getting you out of there," John explained. Neal opened his mouth to argue the last point, but John held up his hand. "As soon as I get you out of the building I promise. I will go back in for Agent Burke."

Neal didn't look exceptionally happy with the plan, but he finally nodded in agreement and the two of them walked towards the building. John followed a short distance behind, waiting about thirty seconds after Neal entered the building to go in himself. True to his word, he stuck to the shadows, watching Neal's every move.

"Franklin?" Neal called out, turning around, trying to find any sign of Peter. He wandered further into the building, searching for any sign of Peter or Delooney. After a few minutes of wandering, John was about to call out to Nea, but Neal's cell phone started ringing, making the con man jump. He answered it after only two rings. "Mozzie?"

 _0-0-0_

"Mozzie?"

"Neal, I'm glad I got you in time. Peter's in trouble," Mozzie stated.

"I know he is, I got a call from Delooney telling me where to meet him."

"What?" Mozzie sounded very confused. A sick feeling grew in Neal's stomach.

"Delooney called. He said he had Peter and that he would hurt him if I didn't get to the address he was calling from in twenty minutes. Peter's phone was pinged from the address as well," he explained.

"Neal, you need to get out of there now!" Mozzie insisted, almost yelling. "Peter isn't in some random building; he was stabbed just outside the FBI office twenty minutes ago!" Neal felt like he had been punched in the gut as his friend continued. "According to Jones, Peter got a call from someone stating that they had you. He left the building but was ambushed almost immediately upon exiting. His phone was stolen from the scene."

Neal turned around with panic in his eyes, which John immediately noticed. He came out of the shadows, not caring if anyone knew he was there anymore. He knew something was wrong and the only thing he cared about was getting Neal out of there.

He reached the con man and grabbed his arm, hauling him towards the exit. They had barely gone half a dozen paces though before there was a loud boom. The walls started crumbling around them, and the floor gave out from under their feet, plunging both of them down into darkness.

...

 _ **Dun dun dun... :D Good news is the next chapter is already written, just need to read over it again and decide when I want to post it...**_

 _ **Let me know what you think?**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hey! So this chapter is longer, hooray! Thank you guys for reading! I'm hoping that the characters are in character, but if you feel like they aren't, remember that I take constructive feedback. Anything that is just flames will be ignored._**

 ** _Again, I have no ownership whatsoever over these wonderful characters :( No one wants to accept a college student's offer for some reason..._**

 ** _Let me know what you think!_**

 _Pain._ That was the only word that was going through Neal's mind as he slowly came back to the land of the living. He coughed, having involuntarily inhaled some dust. He was lying on his stomach, and he could tell that his face was covered with grime and dirt. He moved slowly, aware that he needed to be cautious as he sat up just in case he had any serious injuries. His head felt like there was a marching band drummer playing in his head; he also felt something warm and sticky making it's way down his scalp and face. His shoulder was hurting, but other than those few things, he seemed to be okay.

He tried remembering what had happened. He had been walking through the building when Mozzie called, telling him he had walked right into a trap. He remembered hearing a deafening boom, the walls crumbling around him, and the floor falling out from under him. Suddenly he remembered that he hadn't come alone.

"John?" Neal called out softly, moving away from where he had woken up, trying to find his way around the wreckage in the dark building. "John?" he tried again, his voice a little louder this time.

A cough and a groan coming from behind him had Neal spinning around faster than he should have, and he had to close his eyes and hold his hands out, trying to find anything to brace himself against for the duration of his dizzy spell. Once the spinning had passed, he moved slower towards the last place he had heard the groan from. Moving aside some of the loose rubble, he spotted a large chunk of cement. He saw John lying on the ground, his leg pinned underneath the massive piece of wall.

John coughed again, then slowly opened his eyes, glancing around him as he tried to take in everything. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his leg strongly argued against that course of action. He glanced down and saw a massive chunk of cement sitting on his leg, pinning him down and preventing him from moving.

"John?" Neal asked as he got knelt down. Reese looked at the con man, noticing a scratch on his head that was sluggishly bleeding. He also seemed to be favoring his left shoulder, but John could see no other visible injuries, and he was grateful for that.

"Neal, I need you to do something," John requested in a husky voice.

"Sure, what can I do?" Neal asked. He felt terrible that John had gotten hurt because he was with Neal, especially after he had saved Peter's and his lives last night.

"I need you to find something strong enough to wedge under this slab for leverage so that I can get out from under here," John explained. Neal nodded in understanding while getting up and glancing around. "Anything should work," John continued. "A metal pipe, a piece of rebar, anything solid enough to-" He was cut off by a coughing fit, but Neal knew what he was asking for.

"I'll be right back," he promised. He stood and walked away, scrounging around for anything that might be able to help him. He picked up several items and tested their weight in his hands, finally deciding on a metal pipe that he felt would be strong enough to give enough leverage. He hurried back to John and shoved the pipe under the slab of cement.

"Okay," John said, panting slightly. "Lift up on it for as long and as hard as you can. It should only take a few seconds for me to roll out from under here, and once I do you can let go. Are you ready?" John waited for Neal's affirmative nod and got ready to move. "Alright...now."

Neal pushed on the bar, grunting at the exertion and force it took but finally the chunk of cement was lifted off Reese's leg. John rolled away and Neal let go of the bar, his arms shaking and shoulder aching.

John tried pushing himself up, but his leg protested painfully and he had to gently lower himself back to the ground. Neal dropped the pipe and hurried over to John. The older man leaned back against a sturdy-looking piece of rubble, looking down at his left leg. He reached down and rolled his pant leg up, hissing slightly in pain as the motion jostled his ankle.

John and Neal stared at the swollen and discolored limb. Both of them knew it was severely sprained, if not broken. "What can I do?" Neal asked.

"Help me up," John replied, starting to push himself up again. Neal's eyes went wide.

"Whoa, shouldn't you try to keep that elevated or something? Not put any weight on it?"

John shook his head. "We need to find a way out of here," he explained, gingerly putting his foot on the ground to test how much weight it could withstand. He grimaced slightly and Neal hurried to his side.

"Here, if you're going to insist on getting up, let me help you," he stated firmly. John finally relented and put his arm across the young man's shoulders, and the two of them slowly made their way through the wreckage.

 _0-0-0_

Finch's phone rang and he looked at the screen. It was a number he didn't recognize, and he debated whether to pick it up or not. He finally hit the accept button. "Hello?"

"I'm assuming you're who the man in the suit was talking to?" a voice asked.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?" Finch asked, worry for John spiking. "What happened to John?"

"I'm a friend of Neal Caffrey's," the voice. "Just call me Mozzie," he added. "As for how I got this number, let's just say I'm good at finding and acquiring things, especially when it comes to technology."

"Where is John?" Finch asked again when the other man stopped talking.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Mozzie replied. "I was on the phone with Neal and suddenly our call was disconnected, but before we were cut off I heard a massive boom. Neal said something about Peter being captured; I'm assuming you know who Peter is?"

Finch wasn't sure if he could trust this guy, but he had been trying to get ahold of John since this 'Mozzie' had called, and the ex-agent wasn't answering. He had a bad feeling, and he decided to trust this guy for the time being. "Yes I know who Peter is. John called and told me Agent Burke had been captured and that Neal had twenty minutes to-"

"To get to an address and save Peter?" Mozzie interrupted, finishing Harold's explanation. "Yeah, Neal told me the same thing right before the line went dead. But the thing is, Peter was attacked outside the federal office building. He's in critical care at the hospital right now, so there's no way that the man, whom I'm assuming was Delooney, was telling the truth."

Finch's heart dropped into his stomach. "Could you hold on for one moment?" Without waiting for an answer, he put Mozzie on hold, dialing another number.

"Finch," Detective Carter's stressed voice came on the other line. "You need to make this quick, it's crazy over here."

"I just have a quick question for you, Detective," Finch assured her, trying to keep the stress and worry out of his own voice. "Have there been any reports of anything loud or explosive happening at this address?" He quickly repeated the address where John and Neal were last heard from.

"Harold," Carter said after he finished telling her the address. "We just got word of a bombing at that address." When Harold didn't answer, she spoke again. "How did you know?" She still received no answer, and the she got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Harold, where is John?"

"I'm sorry Detective, I have to go," Finch said quickly, disconnecting the call with the confused and now concerned detective. He got back on the phone with Mozzie. "Mr. Mozzie?"

"Please don't add 'Mr.' to the front of my name," Mozzie begged. "What did you find out?"

"We have a problem," Finch replied gravely.

 _0-0-0_

"Cover your mouth and nose with your shirt," John told Neal, doing the same with his own undershirt as best he could. "We need to avoid breathing in the dust as much as possible."

Neal did as he was told, breathing into his suitcoat while looking around for anything that could help them get out of here. He looked back at John when he heard a ripping noise. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly muffled under the suitcoat. John was currently ripping the bottom of his dress shirt into strips.

"I need to brace my ankle so I can move around a little more," John explained as he grabbed two pieces of rebar lying close to him, putting them on either side of his ankle. Neal crouched down and helped John secure the cloth strips around the makeshift splint.

"What do we do now?" Neal asked, panting slightly. He wasn't sure, but it felt like it was getting slightly harder to breathe.

"We need to try and conserve oxygen," John said, noticing Neal's labored breathing. "First responders should already be here, we just need to let them know where we are." He grabbed two more pieces of rebar, tossing one to Neal and keeping one for himself. "Find something to hit this against," he instructed. "Don't hit too hard, otherwise it could cause objects to shift and collapse again." John started banging on objects nearby just hard enough to be heard, and Neal followed suit.

 ** _There you go!_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Usual disclaimers, they don't belong to me...also, I have no beta, any mistakes are mine :)**_

Finch kept a far enough away distance that he wouldn't be noticed by camera crews and the rescue team, but close enough to be able to hear at least some of what was going on. He was staring at the wreckage of the building that he was positive John and Mr. Caffrey had been in, and he only noticed the small bald man staring at him when Bear whined and strained at the leash for a moment. Limping over to the small man, Finch stopped a few feet away. "Mr. Mozzie?"

"What did I say about the 'Mr.'?" griped the smaller man. Finch didn't say anything in reply to that. The only thing he only cared about was finding John and Neal alive.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a familiar voice said from behind them. Finch turned to see Detective Carter standing there. "I'm going to need to ask you to move away. This area is unstable and we need all unnecessary personnel out of danger," she explained as she shepherded them away from the destroyed building. As soon as they were out of earshot, she glared at Finch. "What are you thinking?!" she asked incredulously.

"I'm thinking that John and one of our latest numbers is in the wreckage of that building," Finch explained. Carter closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Finally she let out a sigh of frustration and opened her eyes.

"And who are you?" She asked Mozzie, sounding slightly frustrated.

"I'm a friend," he replied, not saying anything else. Carter looked like she was expecting something else, but when he refused to say anything else she looked back to Finch.

"I can't let you over there," she said, sounding apologetic.

"Is it unstable?" Finch asked, worry in his eyes. Carter shook her head.

"Not very, but enough that they don't want any unnecessary personnel near the area. We're still trying to locate anyone in the building," she added. "They weren't sure if there was anyone, but I'll let them know we have at least two people down there."

"Thank you Detective," Finch said. Joss turned away and was about to walk back to the wreckage when Bear's ears twitched and he started whining and straining at his leash. "Bear?" Finch asked. Carter turned back around and looked at the Malinois in slight confusion. Finch looked up at the detective with hope in his eyes. "I think he hears something!" He held out the leash to the Joss and she accepted it. The eager dog almost pulled her over in his attempt to get over to the wreckage.

Harold heard Carter call out to the crew members to be quiet. When that order was complete, she gave Bear more slack in his leash, letting him go wherever he needed. He whimpered and started trying to dig around a spot, and the workers converged by the dog with all sorts of listening equipment in their hands.

"We've got sound!" one of them shouted. It was as if a dam had broken. One minute everyone was standing still and waiting to know what was going on, but as soon as they heard they had life underneath the rubble, everyone swarmed around different pieces of equipment, preparing to carefully dig and recover the trapped people.

 _0-0-0_

Joss was standing and staring at the spot where Bear had begun digging, lost in thought until someone tapped her on her shoulder. She glanced around, seeing a man in a suit standing there.

"I'm Agent Jones with the FBI White Collar Crime Unit," he introduced himself. Joss took the extended hand, introducing herself as well.

"Detective Carter, NYPD Homicide."

"Homicide? What is homicide doing here?" Jones asked quickly.

"Just heard about this and thought I'd come see if they could use a hand," she replied smoothly. "What about you? Why is the White Collar Division here?"

"I have reason to believe that one of our team was inside this building when it collapsed," Jones explained.

"I'm so sorry," Carter said with sincerity. "We do have proof of life though," she added, seeing Jones' stressed look. "We believe there are two people down there, and from the amount of sound we heard, we are assuming they're both alive."

"Thanks for the update," Jones said. "I'm gonna stick around though, if that's alright with you?"

"It's not me you need to talk to," Carter said, jerking her thumb over to the crisis team manager. "As far as I'm concerned though, you're good to stay."

Jones thanked her again and walked off to talk to the man in charge while Joss turned around and walked back to Harold and the small bald man. She handed the leash off to Harold, then looked at the two of them.

"Why didn't you tell me your number was an FBI agent?" she asked almost accusingly.

"Because he isn't an agent," the second man spoke up before Finch could. Carter gave him a confused look.

"I believe what my friend here is trying to say," Finch cut in. "Is that the man down there, Neal Caffrey, is a confidential informant," he explained. Joss's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You got some explaining to do, Harold," she finally said.

"Yes, I suppose I do," he relented. He proceeded to tell her what had happened over the last twenty four hours while the rescue crew continued to dig.

 _0-0-0_

"Ssh," John said suddenly, stopping the banging. Neal stopped as well, straining his ears to try and hear whatever it was that John was hearing. After a few seconds he finally heard it; the banging and whirring of drills and saws. He grinned at John.

"Looks like rescue's on it's way," he remarked. John gave a tight smile back, and Neal could tell that his ankle was hurting him. "So what is it you do for a living?" He asked, trying to keep John's mind off the pain.

"Exactly what it seems like I'm doing," John replied. "I help people who need it."

"Yeah, but I'm almost positive that first of all, it's not what you've done your whole life, and second," Neal added. "This seems like something that borders on vigilante-ism, which the cops don't look too kindly on. I know that there's someone out there who does stuff like this, they call him "The Man in-" Neal stopped and stared at John, realization dawning on his face. "Oh…" was all he said. John said nothing to Neal's slightly shocked expression. "But...he only showed up last year," Neal pointed out. "So what were you doing before this, and what made you decide to do this?"

John thought back to his first encounter with Harold. "I wasn't doing anything with my life," he stated. It was true. The agency had turned against him and the world had thought he was dead, so he just let them believe that. "Harold found me and convinced me that I needed a purpose in life."

Neal looked thoughtful. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but before he could get it out, there was a rumbling above them. The two of them looked up, watching in horror as the debris above them started shifting and falling towards them. Without a second thought, John lunged towards Neal, smashing into him and knocking them both out of the way of the falling objects.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sorry for the slight delay. I'm not sure if I like this chapter a ton, but I didn't know what else to do with it.**_

 _ **Probably good news for all of you, there's only one chapter left!**_

"HOLD IT, HOLD IT!" someone yelled. Finch and Mozzie both jumped as they heard the commotion, looking over at the site of the explosion. There were men scurrying around, and Finch could see a puff of dust coming up from the area they were digging around.

"Detective?" Harold called out worriedly. Joss turned to him, concern showing in her eyes as well. She didn't respond to him, and Finch watched as the crew members hurried to stabilize the dig site. Finch resisted the urge to storm over there and demand to know what was going on. Instead, he watched from the sidelines as they finally resumed digging.

After another few minutes, another shout came from the site, but this was a shout of excitement. "We're through!"

 _0-0-0_

John shook his head, trying to clear his dazed head. "Neal? You okay?" he asked as the two of them sat up. Neal checked himself over, then nodded at John.

"Yeah, can't see or feel any new injuries. You?"

John shook his head. His ankle was killing him, but he pushed past the pain and glanced around, trying to assess their situation.

"What do you think happened?" Neal asked.

"Something must have shifted that wasn't supposed to shift." John grimaced in pain as a shooting pain went through his ankle when he shifted too quickly. A few minutes passed with the two of them sitting there trying not to move, when all of a sudden there was a stream of light.

Neal held his hand up in front of his face to block the majority of the light as he looked up, hearing someone up top yell, "We're through!"

John felt a huge sense of relief when he heard that shout. The two trapped men watched as a few minutes later, a harness was lowered down. "Alright Neal, you ready to get out of here?" John asked as he pushed himself to his feet and slowly made his way towards the contraption.

"What?" Neal asked incredulously. "I'm not going first, you're the one that's injured!"

John raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how to operate one of these?" he asked, gesturing towards the harness. Neal opened his mouth, but after a moment shut it again, shaking his head in defeat. "Thought so. Come on," John said, helping Neal get situated.

 _0-0-0_

Finch watched in trepidation as the pulley slowly pulled someone up. A mop of curly hair made it's way up top, and Finch realized it was Mr. Caffrey. He watched as they pulled him out, inching closer. He was close enough to hear Neal tell the workers that they had to send the pulley back down, that there was an injured man still stuck down there. Harold's breath caught in his throat. Injured? How badly was John injured? He watched anxiously as the rescue team once again lowered the device into the hole.

Mozzie hurried over to Neal as the con man was led to a waiting ambulance. Agent Jones met them both there, looking more than relieved. "Caffrey," he said. "It's good to see you're okay."

"Where's Peter?" Neal asked as he tried batting the EMT's hands away.

"He's in the hospital," Jones explained, watching with a trace of humor as the paramedics finally won, beginning to clean Neal's cut and making the young man flinch in pain. "Which is where you're going, so don't worry. You'll see him soon," he promised.

The second time the pulley came up, Finch was relieved to see the familiar face of Mr. Reese appear. They immediately loaded him onto a waiting gurney and wheeled it over to the ambulance. Finch could see John protesting slightly, but no one one paid any attention to him.

Carter saw Finch looking at John in concern, and she hurried over to him. "I'll be there at the hospital with him," she promised. "They'll get him patched up and then I'll take him wherever he needs to go."

"Thank you detective," Finch responded. Bear whined, trying to get to John, but Finch held him back. "Not now, Bear," he muttered soothingly. "He'll be back soon." The two of them watched as the ambulances drove away, Detective Carter following in her car. Mr. Mozzie had walked with Neal to the ambulance, but as that ambulance drove away, the small bald man made his way back to Harold.

"Are you not going to the hospital?" Mozzie asked as he reached Finch.

"Not yet, I'm afraid. There's still some work that needs to be done to catch Franklin Delooney, and I'm going to find him. What about you? Are you not going to go with Mr. Caffrey?"

"Oh no, I'll go. I just don't like ambulances, and I don't trust the suits," he stated, jerking a thumb over at the man who had been with Caffrey on the walk to the ambulance. "You can never be too careful with the government. They're always watching and monitoring," he said matter-of-factly.

" _If only he knew,"_ Finch thought to himself, realizing this man was full of conspiracy theories. Unfortunately, some of them were true.

"I'm heading over there now," Mozzie continued. Finch nodded, and the little man hurried off. Finch looked down at the Malinois.

"It's just you and me now, I guess," he said quietly. He wondered if he should go to the hospital, but he knew John was going to be out of there as soon as he could, with or without his doctor's permission and Finch realized the trip to the hospital would probably be a waste of his time. The best thing he could do was to go back and track down Delooney, find out where he was and what he was up to.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hey! Like I said, last chapter! Thanks for coming along on the ride! :)**_

Zoe slipped into the booth across from Franklin Delooney. He looked up at her with confusion written on his face.

"I think you have the wrong table," he stated as he looked back down at the menu.

"No, I think I'm at the right one," she countered. "Franklin Delooney?"

The man looked up at the sound of his name. "Well. You have me at a disadvantage," he replied, setting the menu back down. "You seem to know who I am, but I would very much like to know who you are," he added, eyes travelling up and down once before meeting her eyes again. He thought she looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen her before.

"I hear you have some information you'd like to keep quiet?" she asked, ignoring his last comment even though she wanted to smack him upside the head for it. Delooney shook his head.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said passively.

"Come on, Franklin," she coaxed. "You and I both know that you've kept a record of all the supplies you purchased. I'm just here because I caught wind of what happened and I think I could help you keep take care of it. For a price, of course," she added.

"I'm sorry, I don't do business with people I am unacquainted with," he stated, bored of the conversation. Zoe leaned forward.

"Fine. You wanna know who I am?" she asked. Delooney looked up, interest once again sparking in his eyes. "My name is Zoe Morgan." She watched as recognition dawned on his face. "Good, you know who I am."

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ms. Morgan?" he purred, suddenly more gentlemanly than he had been since she had arrived. "How did my situation come to your attention?"

"I have friends," she stated simply. "Friends who said you probably had some things you'd like to keep quiet? I can make sure that whatever you have is taken care of," she offered again. Delooney looked at her with debating eyes, then finally reached into his pocket, pulling out a thumb drive.

"What's your price?" He asked, holding the drive up and inspecting it. Zoe grabbed a pen and one of the napkins, wrote a figure down and slid it across the table. Delooney picked it up, and his eyes widened slightly. "Well...I'm sure we can arrange something," he finally agreed, handing the thumb drive over.

"Is this the only copy?" Zoe asked. Delooney nodded.

"Yes. Don't want more evidence out there than there already is, right?" he replied with a chuckle. "How do you plan on getting rid of the evidence?" he asked.

"Who said anything about getting rid of it?" Zoe asked, standing up at the same time someone in the booth behind them did, handing the thumb drive to that person.

"Franklin Delooney, you are under arrest for 3 charges of attempted murder, as well as domestic terrorism. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford…" Detective Carter continued reciting the man's rights as she led him out the door in handcuffs while Franklin glanced around with wide eyes, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Zoe walked out the door after the Detective's car had driven away, going over to meet a figure who was leaning against a wall, watching the whole thing take place.

"Hey John," she said as she took up a spot on the wall next to him.

"Zoe," greeted the man in his quiet voice. "Thank you again for your help," he said.

"No problem. I was glad I could help take the scumbag down," she replied. There was silence for a few minutes, then she asked, "How are Neal and the Agent?"

"They're going to be alright," John assured her. "Neal has a concussion and had a sprained shoulder, but as long as he takes it easy keeps his arm in the sling they've given him he'll make a full recovery in a few weeks. Agent Burke is also going to make a full recovery. The knife missed any vital organs and they've replaced the blood he lost. He'll be in the hospital for a few more days at least, and then kept to desk duty for a few weeks, but he's a very lucky man," he finished.

Zoe looked at the man in the suit. "And what about you?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be off your ankle?"

John looked down at his injured ankle then shrugged. "They said it wasn't broken, it was just a bad sprain. As long as I keep the brace on, I can walk on it just fine."

Zoe raised her eyebrows at him. "And are you currently wearing the brace?" she asked in a lighthearted berating tone. John smiled and didn't answer, and she didn't press him.

 _0-0-0_

"Hey John," Neal said as John sat down on the bench next to the conman.

"Neal," John greeted, inclining his head slightly. "Just came by to tell you that Delooney's been arrested, and is awaiting trial. We have a flash drive with all his associate's names, as well as solid proof that he tried to murder you and Peter," the ex-CIA agent informed him.

"So it's over?" Neal asked, relief apparent in his voice.

"Yeah it's over," John promised. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Neal asked,

"Mozzie wants to know how you knew we were in danger."

John chuckled. "Your friend is an interesting man," he commented, purposefully not answering the question. "I think he and my friend have a lot in common."

Neal knew that was John's way of saying he wasn't going to answer his question, so he let it go. He turned to John. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for what you did for Peter and me," he said, holding out his hand. John took the outstretched hand and shook it.

"Not a problem," he said with a smile. "Just don't let me see your number pop up again, yeah?"

Neal laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on it."

As the two of them parted ways, John thought to himself, "No one ever does."

 _ **So yeah. Cheesy ending, dunno what you guys think, dunno what I think even. But there it is! My first attempt at a crossover!**_


End file.
